


may i have this dance

by coffeeren



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Oblivious Pining, Politics, Post-Canon, Schmoop, at first, edward has a fear of commitment, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeren/pseuds/coffeeren
Summary: “You’re sure you want— this?”“Edward.” Roy releases Ed long enough to place a gentle hand under his chin so he can look into his eyes. “Never mind me. What do you want?”Amestris is on the cusp of full-blown war with Drachma, its leaders trying to sweep the mess under the rug as if that would help anything, and Edward Elric, six years into his first real shot at a regular life and with an outstanding scientific career ahead of him, has never been on a date. All problems for Roy to fix.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 13
Kudos: 123





	1. Prologue

“You really have never been on a date?” Roy questions after what feels like a respectably long silence, glancing sideways at Ed. Ed turns his head to face him so fast Roy feels his own neck ache in sympathy. His ears look flushed, but this could be the alcohol.

Ed has just turned twenty-two, and since on his birthday he was busy somewhere East with university business, Havoc dragged him out for drinks with the whole team as soon as he was back, an ode to their old days. Ed didn’t drink enough to get drunk, mostly, not even tipsy, only sipping his beer now and then and making faces at it as if it offended him personally. Roy suspects he doesn't feel comfortable when he's not completely in control of his agencies, which he can sympathize with, but Roy is a war veteran who has seen and caused enough death for a whole nation, buried his best friend, staged a coup, committed alchemy's greatest taboo against his will, lost his sight, recovered it, fought god, and also, grew up in a brothel. Alcohol is a dear old friend.

Once they had been at the bar for long enough that the owner started looking like she wanted to kick them out, they parted ways, Havoc, Breda and Falman back to the military dorms, an extremely sober Riza taking responsibility for getting an extremely not sober Fuery home safely, and Roy and Ed walking together until their respective routes home diverge. Nice, comfortable company. Their past selves would probably laugh at the idea.

Unsurprisingly, their conversations had turned to dating at several points of their outing, all courtesy of Havoc, of course, during which Ed dropped that particular piece of data, setting a whole train of thought heretofore dormant into motion in Roy’s not-quite-sober mind. 

Roy— doesn’t see much of Ed these days, which is as unfortunate as it is inevitable— he’s busier than ever with the military after everything that happened six years ago; a lot has changed and a lot is still changing, and not staying behind on most affairs requires some effort. Moreover, Edward’s recently acquired his doctorate, sped up both by his genius and his year of non-stop studying in Creta, and is now a college professor in Central, which in itself already takes up most of his time.

They are whole different people now; Roy constantly allows himself to think of Ed in ways that he would never have, before. Up until this point in time, however, it had always been... superficial. Fleeting. Ed, strikingly attractive — a blind man couldn’t deny it, Roy would know, and he certainly never even tried —, overwhelmingly intelligent, captivating, undeniably _good_ and completely out of reach of Roy’s blood-stained hands.

However, things are also different now. The entire foundations of their existences are different. Here they are two adults scarred by much of the same experiences— equals where it matters the most. And, well. Roy’s _curious_ , inhibitions lowered just enough for this conversation.

“I— I didn’t get the chance yet.” Since the Promised Day, Ed obviously means. Which—

“Edward. It _has_ been six years,” Roy comments, and if Ed hears the disbelief in his voice, it doesn’t show.

“Yeah, but—” He trails off, unusually shy and hesitant. “There just wasn’t anyone, y’know? Not yet, anyway.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Roy says, arching an eyebrow, and it’s true. “You’re a charming young man from the countryside in Central City, and you quite literally saved the world.” The young man in question scowls. A very Edward reaction to receiving a compliment. “You’re also in your early twenties and an esteemed professor. I'm sure a lot of people would love the chance to be closer to you.”

“But that’s the thing.” The reply is so quick and at the ready, Roy senses he's travelled down this road before. “Everyone wants to be friends or— or more with the Fullmetal Alchemist. But that’s not _me_ any more. I mean, obviously it is, but not many of them seem to realize that Ed Elric is part of the package,” he finishes, and that— makes a lot of sense, actually. Somehow, it had never occurred to Roy what it means for Ed, who clutches everyone that matters to him tightly and close to his heart, Ed to whom everything is intense, all or nothing, and has always been, to spend all of his late teens and early adulthood constantly followed by the shadows of his actions.

“Well, what about your friend, Winry?” Winry Rockbell is an amazing young lady, and Roy remembers them being very close when they were younger. It would have been a foreseen development.

A pause.

“She’s not really… y’know. My type,” Ed shrugs. Oh. _Oh_. Right now there are many different ways this conversation could go. “I mean, we— we tried, but it would never work, as it turns out. I love her like I love Al, and _he’s_ had a crush on her since, like, forever.”

“I see.” Roy does.

There’s a long moment of silent understanding between them. Edward is… scared. No alchemical or scientific challenge in the face of the planet could possibly intimidate this brilliant man, but after so long living on the edge, unused to kind and gentle touches and unable to afford a second thought to his own future, he has absolutely no idea how to manage feelings and attraction, and that _scares_ him. And Roy’s something of an expert on that particular subject, isn't he?

He would be the first to laugh if anyone so much as mentioned anything fanciful and foolish like _destiny_ , but. Edward and he have a history— not the history he enjoys having with anyone, mind, as it is mostly just pain and blood and trauma, but that’s exactly what makes it so relevant. It feels like he should seize this opportunity.

Roy takes a deep breath, as naturally as possible. Is he really going to do this?

“Let me take you out, then.” He is. Oops.

Ed stops dead in his tracks, staring at Roy flatly, as if waiting for him to burst out laughing or something. “What,” he states more than asks, when no punchline presents itself.

“Well, Edward,” Roy starts, drawling out the name. “I, for one, would very much like to get to know Ed Elric better.”

Ed looks at him as if he had just grown a second head. “You— you were my commanding officer. You’ve known me for over ten years.” His tone is even, like he’s stating the obvious. Ed is clearly taken by surprise, shocked, even, but he hasn’t turned the offer down just yet. This is a dance Roy is very familiar with.

“You know what I meant,” Roy smiles gently. “If you’d prefer, you can view it as a learning opportunity, though I should hope you’d go on a date with me for the sake of it,” he says, and it strikes him that the idea is growing on him disconcertingly fast. The entire thirty-something-years-old military General and former subordinate fourteen years his junior reality of the situation aside, Roy— truly dares want this. “Although if you don’t want to, that’s quite alright. You can forget I asked.” Ed has never been one to play with emotional charades. He’s always openly, unapologetically himself. Sometimes it’s better to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve.

“No, I—” Edward stops himself, swallows, starts again, slower and steadier. “I think— I want to. Go out. With you.” His cheeks dust pink then. It’s… adorable, really. Not that Roy’s about to communicate this particular thought to him.

“Excellent,” Roy says earnestly, and there’s nothing calculated or controlled about his smile in the moment. A rare thing, in the path he’s chosen for himself. They resume walking, and the cool night air after a long, warm late spring day is soothing on his skin. “How does Sunday evening work for you?” he suggests. Not the best day for dates, no, but better than the middle of the week— it’s already Friday, and Roy wants to let a least a little anticipation take hold.

“Okay. Uh.” Ed has his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet and kicking pebbles on the pavement. “Where are we going?”

“May I surprise you?” Roy offers. The truth is that he hasn’t thought that far ahead yet, but this works perfectly fine. “I’ll pick you up at six, and I'll call earlier to let you know how to dress.”

Ed blinks, looks about to argue, then sighs.

“Alright,” he answers finally, relaxing. “Sounds good.”

It _does_ sound good. It sounds— right. That’s the word Roy’s looking for— it feels right, to go out on a date with Edward Elric, a privilege, apparently, no one else has ever had. Such a mundane, simple thing, after years growing from their tumultuous work relationship into their current — and Roy will just consider it that by this point — friendship. After all the times they’ve stared death straight in eyes and barely made it out alive, certainly not unscathed, this still means— quite a lot. It means that the world keeps moving and they keep healing and changing. It’s positively thrilling. Roy feels very young, for once. Very alive. He hopes the feeling will last, even if he doesn’t expect it to.

When they have to part ways, though, Ed gives him a sweet smile, so uncharacteristic of him, and says he’s looking forward to Sunday, and Roy is, too, which he finds to be quite unsurprising, so he will count his blessings where he can.


	2. Chapter 2

"Brother, are you sure about this?" Al asks him from where he's seated on Ed's bed for the— no, Ed's lost count a long time ago. Historically, Ed doesn't do anything he doesn't want to when threatened at gunpoint. Really, Alphonse should know that by now.

"I _am_ ," Ed insists, again. It's the truth, but regardless, Edward Elric doesn't back down from challenges. Ever. He wouldn't even know how to— and going out with _Roy_ , who's some sort of reference on dating in general, is one hell of a challenge, if Ed's ever seen one. He's also not in the business of lying to himself, not for a long time, and he's come to terms with his dumb teenage crush on his annoyingly attractive boss not being— well. A simple teenage crush anymore. Unfortunately.

Al huffs. Ed knows he's been avoiding addressing the real issue here. He doesn't want to say, _You've been head over heels for him since you were nineteen, are you sure you want to feed this monster?_ , but the reminder isn't at all necessary. It hasn't left Ed's head for a single second since his little Friday night walk with Roy— it sits there, that thought, and makes itself noticed like an ugly, gaping wound, impossible to ignore. It's not Ed's fault. He'd never even entertained the idea of Roy actually asking him out beyond the realm of a handful of embarrassing daydreams. It's scary, now that it's actually happening. Ed likes it, he thinks.

"I _want_ to go, Al," Ed says, trying for reassuring. He's not even lying, which is good, considering he's never been all that good at lying to Alphonse. Al just sighs. He's been doing that a whole lot, too.

" _Fine_ ," he concedes. "But I'll have you know that I _will_ kick his ass afterwards if I have to."

Ed considers reminding his little brother that he's no longer a giant suit of armour— which, thank fuck— and this is Roy Mustang they're talking about, then remembers Al's tragically taller and stronger and still beats him in every single sparring session and bites it back. He settles with, "I'm not a maiden in need of protection, Al."

Al's expressions softens at that. "I know that, Ed. I'm just— worried. That's sort of my full-time job, as your brother. You're going to have to live with that." Ed thinks he can live with that just fine, yeah.

"It'll be alright," he reassures both people in the room. "In case it slipped your memory, I learned how to deal with Roy years ago."

"There's a whole world of difference between working for him and _dating_ him, Edward," Al answers without hesitating, and Ed can't really object. The word _dating_ still turns his stomach, even though he knows this is what this is. He's relieved Al understands him, he really is. He'd still rather act like everything is perfectly normal until he can't tell the difference anymore. It's a strategy that's always worked pretty well for him.

Also historically— Ed quite likes history— he's never been all that patient with thins he can't comprehend thoroughly. That he can't put his finger on Roy's reasons behind the whole thing— it's frustrating. Which makes a lot of sense, really, considering _Roy_ has always been pretty frustrating for Ed. He's difficult to read, like a long book badly translated from an ancient dead language. Then again, Ed has always loved literature.

He's run his good share of theories through his mind already, over and over. Possibility number one: Roy asked Ed out because he had wanted to. That's it. Simple and straightforward. Still, Ed's can't really wrap his brain around the idea that Roy Mustang, illustrious high-ranking military officer and Central's favourite heartthrob, might find someone like _Ed_ , with his missing leg and his missing alchemy and disappointingly short temper, interesting enough for that.

Possibility number two: Roy was just messing with him. Setting up some twisted prank, to laugh at his expense somewhere after he manages to make a complete fool of himself. Ed's turned that one over a few times, cracked it open and examined it thoroughly, as if it might offer him some much-needed insight. He doesn't really think Roy would do that. Roy may be a lot of things, and they might have had their issues once, might still have some issues, but he's definitely not cruel. He ought to have more respect for Ed than that, after everything. Hell, they are _friends_.

But possibility number three is that Roy's done it out of some sentiment of _pity_ , for Ed's loneliness or social awkwardness or whatever, which is a whole different can of worms that Ed's simply not about to open, so he's not a left with _that_ many options.

Okay, so maybe there's a chance he's overthinking this. He just needs to think of it like going out for dinner with a friend, just with a bit more... flavour. 

"Will you help me pick an outfit?" Ed asks his brother then, if only to try to distract himself for a moment. Al's eyes light up instantly. Five years and his whole adolescence without being able to dress up sparked in him a permanent fancy for fashion. He has a good eye to back it up, and even though Ed likes his own style, he reaps its fruits constantly.

"Casual, he said?" Al asks, getting up promptly.

"Yeah, but, and I quote, not Ed-casual," Ed says, in mocking bitterness.

"So Roy-casual? That's— actually pretty helpful," Al tells him sternly, because he's just a little evil. He's already going through Ed's dresser like he owns it. "I'll handle this," he declares. "You just stand there and look pretty."

Roy arrives precisely at six o'clock, which isn't surprising in the least but no less impressive for it. Ed wonders if Hawkeye is aware of how punctual he can be.

Al makes a big show of glowing daggers at Roy through the window as he moves to wait for Ed beside his car, a favour Roy returns with a friendly smile. He's wearing plain black jeans, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and pretty shoes that can't really be accused of fancy, and he still looks fucking gorgeous. That's not surprising either, which is a relief because it means Ed has had the time to get over feeling incredibly inadequate. Mostly. At least fifty-percent, he's sure.

"Good evening, Edward," Roy greets him as he approaches the car, keeping a short distance between them which Ed's grateful for. "You look stunning," he says, sounds really genuine about it, too, and Ed has to resist the urge to look down at himself.

The only article of clothing he owns that Alphonse deemed suitable was a pair of light wash jeans, and they admittedly look pretty nice combined with Al's charcoal grey button-up and black leather boots, and Ed's hair has always looked good in a high ponytail, but stunning is still definitely not the word he would have chosen. Maybe that's just date etiquette Roy's following? He could probably write whole textbooks on it.

"You're one to talk," Ed says, which makes him want to cringe at himself. 

"Why, thank you," Roy says. It might not have been the totally wrong thing to say, then. Not that it would be any use for Ed to try to be someone he's not, considering how long Roy has known him for. "Shall we?"

Ed half-expects him to hold the door open for him, and is pleasantly surprised when nothing of the sort happens, considering he's plenty capable of opening car doors himself. Ed settles into the passenger seat, trying his very best to at least not look like he sort of wants to puke. He considers his efforts successful enough so far, and gives himself a mental congratulatory pat on the back.

"Where are we going?" Ed repeats the question from Friday night, as Roy's starting the car.

"You'll see soon enough," Roy answers, delighted with himself. Ed has the presence of mind to begin to scowl at him, which Roy solemnly ignores. Ed can't decide if he wants to be distracted by the way Roy's long fingers grip the steering wheel, or his absolutely abysmal driving skills. At least, he figures, it's good to see the great Roy Mustang being a normal human being with normal human being flaws.

The ride is silent, but only mildly awkward by Ed's standards, and Roy looks anything but uncomfortable, so Ed stares a little at him, because— well, because he's allowed, and a little out the windows to try and guess their destination. Apart from a handful of familiar buildings, he can't really recognize the route they're taking.

Miraculously, Roy manages to park halfway through a residential little street facing the largest of the rivers running through Central, without causing any traffic accidents. Amestris is in good hands. He graces Ed with a little smile, which Ed would describe as coy if he believed Roy capable of such a thing, and gets out of the car without a word. Ed is beyond himself with curiosity by now, so there's no way Roy isn't doing this on purpose. He lets Roy lead him around the corner into the riverside street and hears himself draw in a sharp breath.

Ed's heard about the Central Night Market, obviously, has seen pictures and paintings, because it's kind of a big deal now for the touristic aspects of the city, and Al's crazy about it. It just had never sounded like his particular brand of entertainment before, however, so he had never personally been here. Which turns out to be a tragic shame, because it's— breath-taking, up close.

Wires dotted with yellow, star-like lights criss-cross above the wooden stands, reflecting on the pitch-black dark of the river and giving the whole scene a homey feel, even with the mass of people bustling about. Ed can see all kinds of trinkets he would never have any interest in buying, cheerful vendors and excited children, and understands why Al adores this place. Ed should buy something for him before going home.

"You sure know what you're doing," Ed tells Roy, not bothering to tone down the surprise in his voice.

Roy is studying him very intently, with a ridiculously proud crinkle to his smile. Ed's face must betray everything. "I do my very best," Roy answers, motioning towards the row of little stands extending as far as Ed's eyes can see. The river wind carries the smell of fresh street food, promising great things for their near future.

Ed follows by his side, close enough that their arms are almost grazing as they walk. Is this within the acceptable range of distances to keep between you on first dates? Does that range vary when you've been friends for many years and faced doomsday together? Ed has no idea. Roy's playing along, at the very least, so— probably?

"I've been meaning to ask," Roy says, stopping briefly to examine a collection of stylishly bound writing pads and notebooks on display. Ed's stomach does an unpleasant twist, and he braces himself. "What exactly is it that you do at the university? I believe you've never gone into detail."

That— was not what Ed had been expecting, at all. Not that he had an actual list of questions he thought he might be answering tonight, but he hadn't counted on something so... comfortable to discuss. It's surprising in the best of ways.

"It's mostly research," he begins, trying not to flush under Roy's attentive gaze. "How we can exploit the intersections between alchemy and biology and chemistry, especially to develop new, more efficient and affordable technology that hospitals and clinics can use." Roy's eyebrows gradually disappear into his hairline, and Ed feels his heart skip a beat with pride. "My lab works very closely with some doctors at Central Hospital," he continues. "It's all still very theoretical, since I can't use alchemy myself anymore, and kind of— taboo. Most professors don't really trust it, and I don't really blame them."

Roy sighs in agreement. "Tell me about it," he says.

"Yeah," Ed says, "but occasionally I get a reliable student with enough experience to help me with practical tests. We've been making good progress, and the board is satisfied enough with my work to keep funding it." Ed is keenly aware that he's borderline rambling by now— which is fair, he thinks, since he loves talking about his work and has very few people to talk about it with, so really, Roy unknowingly asked for it. Still, Ed has half the mind to start feeling self-conscious about hoarding the conversation before Roy interrupts his overthinking.

"Ed, that's amazing," he says, somehow like he means it wholeheartedly, and Ed's traitorous stomach clenches, but he'll blame this one on the smell of amazing food getting stronger as they head on further. And a little on Roy calling him Ed. He likes it when people call him Ed. Roy's voice is especially good for that.

"It really is kinda cool, isn't it?" Ed says, smiling involuntarily. "I also teach a few classes every semester, usually genetics stuff."

"That does sound like you," Roy says, seriously, and decides then that he likes this private side of him. Must be why he was so popular with women back in the day. "I'm— aware that it isn't quite my area of expertise, but if you ever want another alchemist's input, I'd be glad to assist you."

Ed feels his eyes widen. Remembering Roy’s also a scientist at heart does some not very pleasant things to his insides. “Roy, that’s— thank you. I’ll let you know.”

With just the two of them like this, it's clear to Ed that Roy isn't wearing any of his usual masks. Looking at him, baring at least some of his true feelings so openly, feels almost wrong, like witnessing something intimate. It hits Ed then that this _is_ intimate, at least more than they have ever been before, and he wishes his mind wasn't plagued with doubt so he could fully appreciate it.

"What is your current opinion," Roy starts to ask, prompted by the stands opening up into some makeshift equivalent of a food court— _finally_. "On crêpes for dinner?"

"Don't count on my saying this often," leaves Ed's mouth before he can think about it, because unfortunately he is still himself, on a date with the man he has had feelings for for years or not, "but my opinion is that you're a genius."

Roy orders a cheese and ground sausage crêpe for himself. Ed orders three, eliciting a comment about growth spurts from Roy that earns him a very rewarding kick to the shins— Ed doesn't even use the metal foot.

"Uhm," Ed starts, staring down at his food. Roy turns his attention to him. "How— I mean—"

Ed interrupts himself, and Roy tilts his head curiously. "What is it?"

"It's just— It just occurred to me that, uh, I don't really know a lot about you," Ed says. In the beat of surprise it takes Roy to formulate an answer, he adds, "Sorry, that's a weird thing to say on a date, isn't it?"

Roy inexplicably finds himself wanting to kiss that sheepish expression away. "Not at all," he says, and Ed's head snaps up. "Ask away."

"Oh." Ed hesitates, then. "What do you usually do for fun?"

Roy hums contemplatively, lips tugging upwards. It's nice that Ed wants to know. "I read quite a lot. I'm not sure if I've mentioned, but I have a small personal library at home." At that, something gleams in Ed's eyes. Roy bites back the offer to show it to him sometime. Too soon. "Although I admit I haven't had much free time as of late." He actually doesn't even remember the last time he had a full hour to spend however he wanted.

"That's it?" Ed asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You just read?"

Roy places a hand in his chest in mock offence. "If you must know, I also watch plays at the Theatre occasionally and enjoy listening to records," he says. "What multitude of hobbies are you hiding, Edward?"

Ed shrugs. "I read, too," he says around a mouthful of crêpe, all exemplary etiquette. Roy finds it charming. "But, uhm. I don't have a lot. Of hobbies, that is." He stuffs the rest of his second crêpe in his mouth at once, falling silent. Roy decides that is a line of conversation best pursued some other time, and settles for a sound of acknowledgement, hoping Ed doesn't think he would judge him for never having been offered the chance to be a child.

After clearing the little table the crêpe place provides for their clients, Roy orders one more, sweet, so they can share it for dessert and hopefully bring the dampened mood back up. He pays for it, and Ed complains profusely but doesn't refuse his share when offered.

"Any further questions, Mr. Elric?" Roy prompts, as playfully as possible, as they walk along to the narrow dock overseeing the river at the end of the market.

"Oh," Ed says. "Yeah, I— I think so."

Roy waits.

"It'll sound stupid," Ed continues quietly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you," Roy tells him.

Ed sighs without looking at him, leaning against the handrail and licking some leftover sugar from his thumb. The wind blows on his hair softly and makes it look even more golden than usual under the market lighting. It's positively mind-blowing that he can be this alluring without even noticing. "I— actually don't know what was more surprising to me," he starts, still looking out over the water. "You not being irreparably straight, wanting to go out with me of all people, or still being single in the first place."

"Ah, well" Roy says in understanding. More surprising still, Roy thinks, is that Edward Elric is having insecurity issues while Roy himself is feeling rather privileged being here with him. Roy doesn't think he's ready for the words he's about to say, but he also doesn't think he will ever be, so, "Firstly, it's a relief to know I wasn't as obviously smitten with Hughes as I always feared."

Ed's attention in back on him in an instant. "You— I mean. I _thought_ that might be the case," he says, and for a second Roy feels indescribable sadness weighing on his chest, "but— Al said he didn't see it, so in the end I just sort of brushed it off."

Roy chuckles, heart heavy in spite of himself. "That's fair," he says. "Riza is the only one who knew. She always did."

"I'm sorry, Roy."

"Don't be," Roy tells him. "I never was."

Ed frowns for a second. "You— You've been with women, though," he states, and his way of asking what he really wants to know without using words that make him uncomfortable is adorable.

"Mm. I'm a man of varied tastes, you see," Roy says in way of clarification, and Ed just snorts. Adorable. "Why _wouldn't_ I want to go out with you, Edward?" he asks then.

Ed laughs without much humour. "You're gonna want that listed in alphabetical order or sorted by relevance?" Roy's heart aches at the absurdness of the question.

"You do realize that such a list will warrant one of my own, citing all of your countless qualities one by one, in whatever order they come to mind," he says gravely. He thinks he would really do it if he had to. "I can assure you, Ed, mine will be longer," he concludes, innuendo not intended but always appreciated.

Ed waves him off, which— which is a little heart-breaking, really. Roy supposes to some people, Ed's inability to notice how intimidatingly amazing he is makes him all the more attractive, but it isn't humility, not really, just an utter lack of self-esteem, and Roy's sure confidence would look much better on him. "Last question, then," Ed says resolutely, finally looking at him. "Why are you still single?"

"It's complicated," Roy answers, because it is.

"I figured as much," Ed shrugs, "but why? I imagine most of the Amestrian population of consenting age would be dying to get in your pants."

Roy— well, Roy could not possibly let that one go. "Are you saying that based on scientifically gathered data or on personal account?"

Ed sputters into a coughing fit. Roy very politely doesn't laugh. Only— smirks, a little.

"Alright, alright," he continues once Ed's calmed down enough to glare at him. "I admit that's almost... accurate, if highly exaggerated." Ed's gaze on him is heavy, and Roy has to look away again. "But attraction is one thing; emotional connection is a whole different beast, and I have an outstanding amount of... baggage, as I'm sure you understand." By his side, Ed sighs in a way that tells Roy that he does. Privately, he wonders if Ed has nightmares, too. "Once the novelty of sleeping with the _Flame Alchemist_ ," Roy drops his title like it's a mockery. In the present context, it almost is, "wears off, they walk away. I don't blame them, really, but it can be rather lonely."

"So, like—" Ed says, no judgement at all in his voice. "It's too much, for people who don't know you."

"Yes... and no." A tiny voice in the back of Roy's mind tells him it should _not_ be this comfortable to confide so much in Ed, but it is a frail voice, and he flicks it away swiftly. "It's— not easy, no, but manageable, to recount my complicated life story to someone interested enough. They're just never more enthusiastic about it than I am, which is, as you might have guessed, not at all." Roy looks back at Ed before continue. It's important that Ed understands how much he means this. "I suppose that knowing and understanding are worlds apart."

Ed eyes him with something he wishes didn't look so much like disbelief. "And you think _I'm_ — someone who could understand?"

"I believe you already are someone who understands, Edward."

Ed goes silent. Roy can't do much more than hope he believes him. It is, after all, the truth, but Roy understands how actually hearing it can be— a lot.

"You don't have to answer it if you don't want to," Roy starts, drawing Ed's attention back to him. "But I have a— question of my own." When Ed nods, he continues, "Have you truly never dated anyone?" Ed flushes subtly, but Roy decides to let it be. He isn't passing any judgement at all. He's just genuinely curious.

"I, uh," Ed sniffs. "I made out with Ling, a couple times, because we were fifteen and the world was ending and we thought we were going to die," he says, like it's the most natural event in the world, making out with the Emperor of Xing during the apocalypse. "And— you mentioned Winry, and we actually tried dating once, when we were eighteen and thought that was what we wanted. It wasn't, by the way."

"I noticed," Roy says, lowering his voice.

"So you did." Ed looks at him sideways— slyly? Oh, Edward— "But that was about it. No one else, and, uh— nothing more than that," he finishes.

Roy wishes, then, that it was different. That he was younger and a better person and they had met under kinder circumstances, and not when Roy was a disgraced soldier with hands soaked in blood— which he still is, in all the ways that matter— and Ed was an eleven-year-old traumatized boy missing half his limbs. What would it have been like, then? Would they have been close?

Would they still have been themselves?

Roy banishes the thought to the forgotten realms of his brain to die a gruesome death, along with many others, and never to be seen again. It would only serve to hurt him.

Ed's still looking at him. Just looking, equal parts expectant and apprehensive. Roy wonders how much aware of it he is. When Ed licks his lips, Roy's eyes are inevitably drawn to his mouth.

"Only if you want to," he says in a quiet voice, tucks a wild golden strand behind Ed's ear and holds his hand an inch away from Ed's cheek, giving him enough spacer to pull away or come closer if it's what he wants. Roy wants it. Wants to kiss him right here and now, even more than he would have expected of himself, but he will wait if need be.

Then, because Edward is and will always be Edward, he ignores Roy's hand entirely, stands up on his toes and pulls Roy's face closer, only to stop when their lips are just shy of touching. Roy feels intoxicated. He doesn't hesitate in taking the responsibility for himself.

Kissing Ed is— it's hard to find words to describe what kissing Ed is like, for all Roy has _thought_ about doing it. His lips are very soft, but Ed is all passion and very little finesse— which is absolutely fine by Roy. He's willing to provide plenty of opportunities for improvement.

Ed kisses like he depends on it to keep on living. He tastes faintly of the chocolate crêpe they shared, and Roy could drink him up all night.

He moves his lips against Ed’s, slowly, guiding, wanting to taste more of him and never feeling satisfied. Ed’s hands tangle in his hair, tentative and hesitant, like he’s not quite sure what to do with them. Roy slides his hands around Ed’s waist to hold him close by the small of his back, touching strong muscles under his fingers that tell stories he wishes Ed didn't have to tell.

The feeling of nails delightfully dragging against his scalp sends a jolt down Roy’s spine and he lets his teeth catch on Ed’s lower lip— triggering something in him immediately, and one of Ed's hands quickly lets go of Roy’s hair to hold on to the collar of his shirt instead, to pull him closer or just to make sure he’s really there, Roy doesn’t know. It's not like he's going anywhere.

When Roy finally presses his tongue in Ed’s mouth, he lets out a noise so flatteringly pleased and presses back so eagerly, Roy decides that if he could he would stay right here and just keep kissing Ed endlessly until they both passed out from the lack of oxygen, and then keep kissing him.

Sadly, _tragically_ , Ed apparently has other plans. He drops back onto his heels, keeping their bodies still overwhelmingly close. His lips look deliciously kissed red and shiny, the gold of his eyes almost completely hidden away behind his pupils. Ed’s hand clutches Roy’s shirt so tightly that one button has popped open, and it’s likely thoroughly wrinkled, but he honestly could not care less. All of his willpower’s focused on not diving right back into kissing Edward senseless.

"Wow," Ed says, eyes fixed on Roy's mouth. Roy thinks he blushes a little, but it's difficult to tell with how red his cheeks already are.

Roy absent-mindedly rubs his thumbs in a soothing circular motion where they rest on Ed's waist. "Impressed?" he asks in a low voice, to Ed's ears only.

Ed apparently decides the best answer he can provide is smashing his mouth directly against Roy's once again, all renewed determination, exploring and demanding rather than waiting for permission. Ever the diligent student, Ed sucks on Roy's lower lip and lets his tongue run on the roof of Roy's mouth. Roy brings one of his hands up to press between Ed's shoulder blades and the other back around to squeeze his waist. At this rate, he will soon rank making out with Edward Elric honourably high on his list of favourite activities.

Just a little rough, a little hasty, Ed kisses Roy like it's all he's ever wanted to do in his life, with something akin to hunger, hands clutching and pulling and scratching. Ed kisses him so fervently it borders on clumsy, and when their teeth knock and Ed laughs breathlessly into their kiss, Roy is immediately an addict.

"Damn, what time is it?" Ed asks abruptly, and Roy tries to chase after his lips without thinking about it. "Maybe— maybe I should be heading back? Before my brother sends out a search party."

"Would he do that?" Roy raises an eyebrow.

"Yes," Ed answers seriously, sighing. His hands are still keeping Roy in place. Roy kisses him again.

"Shall we, then?"

"Will Alphonse be watching us?" Roy asks once they're parked outside Ed's house, eyeing the living room window. The curtains are drawn, but they're not very thick, and the lights are obviously on.

"Definitely," Ed answers. Before he can think about it, he cuts Roy's grimacing short with a kiss. "I— I had a lot of fun."

Roy smiles gently down at him. "So did I."

Ed opens the door and steps out onto the pavement. In a split-second decision, he turns back around. "Uhm. We should do this again. Call me?"

"I will." Roy takes his bottom lip between his teeth when he nods, which is fucking unfair and should probably be illegal. "Good night, Edward."

"Good night, Roy."

Ed makes the walk from the pavement to the front door feeling very light on his feet, and manages to unlock it without looking back over his shoulder when he hears the car engine start, and Roy drives away.

"How was it?" Al wants to know as soon as the door closes behind him. Toeing off his shoes, Ed doesn't even bat an eye.

"You were watching, how do you think?" Al glares at him. "From an outsider's perspective," Ed defends, which he finds perfectly fair. "Here." He reaches into his pocket to retrieve the tiny porcelain kitten he bought and offers it to Al. "I thought you'd like this."

The glare dies immediately. "Brother! I love it!" Al exclaims, taking the gift with such pure glee that Ed decides he will buy all the ornamental felines he can get his hands on, if it's a requirement for Alphonse's happiness. "It seemed— alright? I mean, I now have the image of Brigadier General Roy Mustang kissing my brother very vivid in my brain, but that's whatever."

“Your brother kissing Brigadier General Roy Mustang,” Ed corrects, and the sentence in itself feels like some bizarre fever dream. “But yeah, I guess it was alright. We, uh, went to that night market, by the river. You know the one.” Al nods, completely attentive. Ed tires of standing around in the entranceway and steps into the living room, plopping down on the armchair. “We got crêpes for dinner and then just— walked? along the riverside, and we talked a lot.” _And then we made out_ , but he isn’t about to put that into words for his little brother to hear.

“Did you enjoy it?” Ed’s mind requires a full second to conclude the question isn’t about the kissing part, which very obediently stayed in his thoughts.

“I did, actually,” Ed says softly, focused on examining the fireplace. It could probably do with some cleaning. “Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise but— we have a lot in common? I feel like... I feel like he understands me better than most people could.”

“Oh. Oh, brother, that’s actually so sweet.” Ed’s head snaps to the side to stare at him. Al’s eyes are very wide, like he just came across some grand realization.

“Wh— I _guess_?” He can practically see the well-oiled gears turning behind Al’s eyes, and it feels like Ed's just handed a ground-breaking scientific find over to him on a silver platter, to be dissected and studied and catalogued.

“I admit to judging Roy too soon and agree to temporarily let go of my previous misconceptions,” Al says very seriously, with a hand over his heart. “A probation, of sorts. Are you doing this again?”

“I— have no idea? I told him to call, but I dunno. I can’t tell what he’s hoping to get out of it. I'm not even sure he really liked it tonight.”

Al makes a face. “Have you considered that perhaps... he isn’t hoping to get anything? Maybe he just likes you, Ed.”

“No one just likes me, Al,” Ed says. He regrets the words the exact second they leave his mouth.

“Wow, okay, where did _that_ come from? You _know_ that’s not true.” Al raises his voice. He looks— surprisingly horrified. “People love you. Did Roy say something? I _swear_ —”

“No?” Ed interrupts him. He needs a way to steer this conversation back under his control. “I’m just not a people person, Al. I’m _alright_ with that.”

“So what? You don't have to be an anything person to be loved, Edward.”

Ed’s momentarily struck speechless. “Fine, I was being dramatic. I’m sorry,” he relents, if a bit defensively. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”

He wasn't lying— he _did_ feel great, with Roy tonight. It was easy and familiar even with the completely unknown _this-is-a-date_ variable added to it. Ed felt comfortable. Roy in his element, still himself, still flirty and smug but in a sweet way, with none of the calculating and manipulative intent behind it, is a Roy he wishes was around more often. And that _kiss_ —

Ed heaves a dramatic sigh. He wouldn't be himself anymore if he didn't take the good things coming his way with a huge chunk of salt. It's all he's known all his life.

Al just looks him over for a moment longer, probably trying to gauge how much he can trust Ed’s words. “I’m going to go make you some tea,” he says finally, already halfway to the kitchen. “You work on getting that stubborn head of yours out of your butt in the meantime.” And then he’s gone. Ed decides that the state of cleanliness of their fireplace is infinitely more interesting than the inside of his own head right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are!! i'm reworking this a bit, trying to set the correct mood for the story,, i like how it's coming along  
> if you've read this far, thank you, and i hope you enjoyed it <3


	3. Chapter 3

"Half of our diplomats were sent back from the Drachman capital last week," Riza is telling him. "But it is unclear whether this is a good sign, sir. Fort Briggs' reports to North City are few and far in-between." The words register, but Roy is busy staring a hole down into his desk. When will Amestris _learn_? "Sir?"

"Yes, Captain," Roy acknowledges, looking up into Riza's stern face. "I'm— not sure there's anything we can do about it," he admits in a low voice. One would have thought a general in the Amestrian army wouldn't have to be so paranoid, but Roy knows well that his office walls have ears, and they report directly to the upper brass.

"What I mean to say, sir, is that perhaps it would be a show of good faith to reach out to General Armstrong," Riza suggests. She would be a great actress, Roy thinks, but he can think of few professions that would suit her less.

"Hm," he says, in mock consideration. his letter to Armstrong already written, proofread by Riza herself, and sealed. "You might have a point, Captain."

"Should we go for lunch while you consider, sir?" Riza asks, and Roy has never known anyone as good at making suggestions sound like orders.

"Sure," he says, narrowing his eyes up at her. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to go?"

"I'll drive us," Riza offers. Roy— might as well get this over with.

She takes them to a familiar place, close by but not overly crowded with military people, and Riza is serious, as she usually is, but Roy knows her well enough to recognize this situation as a sure sign that she is about to interrogate him on something— something _personal_ , no less, or she wouldn't have hesitated to do it in the confines of his office.

"So, Roy," she starts while they wait for their orders, in a table conveniently tucked away from prying ears. "My sources tell me you were busy this weekend."

Oh. Oh, no. Roy blinks once before answering, "Did he _tell_ you? Who are your sources?"

"Winry Rockbell," Riza says, offering no further explanation. "It is true, then," she continues, and, well. It's not like he would even bother to try to hide things from her.

Still, Roy hangs his head. "It is, Riza," he says. "I hope you know I wasn't planning on keeping it a secret. Especially not from you. It's just— it's very new." So new, in fact, that it hasn't even been two full days since he dropped Ed off at home. Not exactly time to go around broadcasting it.

"I know," Riza says. There's a heavy pause while their waiter sets their food down, and Roy knows he won't like whatever comes next. "I just— want to be sure you know what you're doing."

Roy frowns. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Roy," she says, and it sounds like a plead. "This is Edward we're talking about. If you tire of it—"

"I won't," Roy interrupts, even though he knows that's not something he could ever promise.

"If you _do_ ," Riza continues, fixing him with a hard stare. "I want to know that you'll do whatever is in your power not to hurt him."

It slips Roy's mind, sometimes, how much Riza cares for the Elric brothers, and how protective she is of the people she cares about. He's ever thankful for the reminder. "I wouldn't ever want to hurt him, Riza," he says, softly. Ed has been hurt enough, he thinks. "I'm— I'm serious about him."

Roy imagines he should be surprised to find that it's true, but he isn't. He's serious about Edward, and it's only sad to think he hadn't realized that earlier.

"Good," Riza says, warmer now. "I'm glad, Roy."

Ed's sulking. Roy hasn't called yet, and while he can recognize that three days without talking is perfectly reasonable, patience was never his strongest suit, and it's not his fault if he _misses_ Roy. It's just— it was nice. It was a _nice date_ , and getting to know a whole new side of a man Ed spent the better part of a decade believing he already knew in all the ways that mattered, well. It's thrilling. Ed has always been too curious for his own good.

"Edward, I can almost hear you thinking," Al sighs from behind his book. Ed realizes he might have been staring at their house phone for a while too long to be a coincidence. "Out with it."

Well, now. Ed's not sure he could put his feelings into words if he wanted to, and he finds that he really doesn't. He doesn't want to whine about his worries of not being good enough for Roy to Alphonse, of all people, not after everything he's already put Al through. Ed refuses to be petty or insecure. He settles for, "What if he _doesn't_ call?" That seems safe. That seems valid.

"Well, Brother," Al starts, settling the book down on his lap to give Ed his full attention. He stares at him like he thinks Ed's an idiot, but one he's quite fond of. "Surely you know how to make a phone call."

It takes a toll on Ed's willpower not to roll his eyes then and there. "It's not that simple," he protests.

"Why not?" Al asks right back at him. Ed doesn't really have an answer. "Just pick a nice restaurant or something, call him and ask if he wants to go have dinner with you. Simple."

"Alphonse." Ed narrows his eyes at him. "Are you— trying to play the matchmaker? For me and _Roy_?"

Al's cheeks go pink, and god, does Ed love him. "I—" Al starts, then cuts himself off with a huff. "Ed, I'm— going to be honest with you," he says, suddenly way too serious. Ed feels his defences rising immediately. "When you told me last week that he had asked you out, I was... worried. I thought he might be toying with you, because— well, you know why, and I know how you feel about him, I do." Ed slides down in his armchair as if Alphonse's words won't be able to find him there anymore. Al smiles. "You're allowed to have feelings, Ed. I just didn't want him to hurt you like that."

"That's— fair," Ed says, at a loss for words. He'd shared that sentiment, that _Roy Mustang is up to something shady_ inkling once so ingrained into them both. Al has gotten past it, it seems. Ed— he's working on it.

"Brother, you're _friends_. And you wanted to go, so I made peace with my worries, for you, and when you got back you seemed— happy. In a way you hadn't been, in a while." Ed appreciates it, that Al notices so much about him, that he _cares_ so much. "He was _good_ for you. Call him. You want to."

" _Fine_ ," Ed groans, pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes. This is a lost battle anyway.

Roy considers Thursdays the only day worse than Mondays, because he’s already worn out from the ever growing workload of the week and blissful rest is close but not close enough. When Riza knocks on the door to tell him he has an incoming call from an outside line, Roy has to bite his tongue to avoid cursing before telling her to let it through.

“General Mustang,” Roy picks up the receiver, masking the apprehension in his voice. Almost seven years and external calls still send a spark of cold horror down his back.

“ _Look at you, sounding all important,_ ” an unmistakably familiar voice answers instead.

“Edward.” Roy hears his relief, and looks up to make sure the door to his inner office is closed before he can stop himself.

“ _That is my name, yes,_ ” Ed agrees.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

On the other side of the line, Ed takes a single deep breath. “ _I know I said you should call but, uh._ ” He pauses. “ _Well, you haven't yet, and last Sunday was... pretty cool._ ”

“I’d say that’s an accurate way to describe it,” Roy says, mourning the fact that Edward isn’t here to see his face.

“ _Glad you think so. Uh, a question._ ” Ed pauses yet again, and Roy waits. “ _Do you like Xingese food?_ ”

“That I do,” Roy says, now wishing he could see his own face.

“ _Cool, me too. So there’s a Xingese place that just opened up this week a few blocks from the university, and apparently it’s really good,_ ” Ed tells him, slowly.

Roy hums innocently and says nothing.

“ _Would you maybe like to go there for dinner tomorrow?_ ” Ed continues, slower still.

“Yes, Edward,” he says, amusement seeping into the words. “I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow.”

“ _Oh._ ” Ed’s lovely. “ _Oh, great! Meet me at the campus main entrance and we’ll walk there together?_ ”

“Sure. Expect me there by five-thirty?” It’s a close call, but if he has to leave Headquarters a bit earlier then— well, Riza will probably forgive him.

“ _I will. It— It’s a date, then?_ ” Ed’s _lovely_.

“Yes,” Roy answers. “Yes, it is.”

“ _Perfect, see you tomorrow, bye!_ ” Ed says, in a hurry, and hangs up before Roy can get another word in.

He sets the phone back down and there’s an immediate knock at his door, followed by Riza walking in. Roy steeples his fingers and grins at her.

“No trouble getting your work done today, sir?” she asks, voice stern like she’s just caught him doodling on important papers again. Which might or might not be half of what’s happening here.

“No, Captain,” he replies.

Riza nods before turning back to the door, with folders Roy doesn’t remember ever going through perched on her arm. “I'm glad to hear it, sir.”

Roy feels, as he usually does, immensely grateful for Riza's approval. He tries to remember the last time he was actually truly invested in a romantic endeavour and fails miserably. Riza probably knows it's been an agonizingly long time, she must, and that means she thinks _this_ is, if not actively good for him, at least not unwelcome. Roy trusts her judgement— trusts her to be a voice of reason where he can't trust himself. He loves her for— he loves her for a great many things, really, but for that especially.

Bright blue light fills Ed’s vision, followed by the clink of the stainless steel scalpel falling back down onto the transmutation circle etched on the table. Liu, the exchange student from Xing currently researching under Ed, turns to him with a glint in her eyes, looking indescribably proud of herself — as she should be — and he lets out the breath he’d been holding.

“Now we just have to test it,” she says, words dripping with confidence. Liu’s extremely gifted in both alkahestry and alchemy, with the brilliance to go along with it, and she knows it and has no qualms about showing it off. Ed can relate. The day she returns home will be an unfortunate one for his lab.

He picks the small tool up and brings it over to the centre of the room, where their creepy mock of a human arm is perched on its metal base, looming over the cotton towels laid out on the counter. It was his idea— a metal cylinder lined with raw leather tubes, full of a red liquid similar enough to human blood in its chemical composition being pumped through, and since it was far too delicate work to put it together manually, Liu transmuted it perfectly for him.

Ed touches the tip of the scalpel to one of the thickest tubes— a vein, for all their current intents and purposes, and slowly, carefully, almost in apprehension, drags open a cut along its length, roughly two inches long. Red drips on the white cloth below right away, but after only a handful of tortuous seconds the leather begins to close back up, and Ed just barely keeps himself from yelling out in triumph. He looks at Liu, but her gaze is completely transfixed on the scalpel in his hand, which is absolutely fair.

This is— _huge_ progress. An unprecedented breakthrough in their project. Previous prototypes were somewhat efficient, but not nearly enough to be as revolutionary as they want the finished product to be. They still have a long way ahead of them, however. A long, long list of boxes to check out before they can get a release batch into trial use.

“Liu,” Ed calls her attention back to him. “I need you to make a few more of these. Maybe a dozen.” She nods. “I'm going to keep testing this one, exhausting possibilities. I'll be taking some notes and then I'll have to ask you to read them through and run your own tests for consistency.”

Still nodding, Liu glances at the clock on the wall above the door. Ed chuckles.

“We can leave the last part for next week if it comes to that. With what we accomplished today, we’re good on time,” he says.

“For now,” Liu adds seriously, turning back towards her personal workstation. She doesn't sound all that worried.

“Exactly. Also, Liu,” he calls after her again, and she looks back over her shoulder questioningly. “Great job.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she says, smiling in a way that almost makes it sound like _‘I know’_.

Ed redirects his focus back to the nightmarish fake appendage in front of him. There are many cases he wants to investigate— will the cauterizing effects diminish with use? If so, how? Should he measure it in length of cutting? Should he take depth into the equation? He'll need an equation. Probably several of them. If he opens the same cut again, will it close faster? Slower? He notices the leather where he made the first cut looks a shade lighter than before— thinner?

There are too many what-ifs; Ed files all those questions and observations away to a part of his brain where he knows he’ll remember to find them later, and picks a bundle of hair-thin tubes — capillaries — as his next victim.

He opens a vertical cut, damaging several tubes at once, and retrieves his notepad from where it rests abandoned to his left, safe from the gory mess he’s making. He scribbles two bullet-points into the first available page:

  * _what happens if we completely sever a tube? check when more time_

  * _ask liu to make a couple dozen more scalpels w diff materials — iron + copper??_




Hospitals only really ever use stainless steel, but he’s curious about how the composition of the tool will change the effects of their alchemy— if it will at all. He wants to _know_. There’s just so much going on here, so much to learn, so much to achieve, he feels like a kid breaking into the cookie jar to find it filled to the brim with the most delicious cookies ever baked.

God, Ed’s neurons are in overdrive. He can practically feel smoke rising from his ears and it feels absolutely fucking great. He almost wishes he didn’t have to leave in less than two hours— keyword: almost. Ed’s never been drunk or high unless painkillers count but he imagines it must be similar to what he’s feeling now, if he can think about that without his insides threatening a mutiny.

Ed shakes his head. He's not going to think about it now. He'll have plenty of time to worry about all of that later.

Roy arrives at the Central University gates some polite five minutes earlier than promised, which means Ed isn’t here yet and that’s quite alright. He left the office a little before five, so he could change out of the uniform and still be here on time. No one else even batted an eye because it isn’t really an uncommon occurrence, Roy ditching the last minutes of work, but Riza had almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow at him, in that way that he’s known for many years means she knows exactly what he’s doing and where he’s going, and he will just have to work extra hard the next week. She’s very kind and diplomatic like that. He’d be dead without her. Literally, that is.

He feels almost uncomfortably out of place on campus, where people like Edward come to learn and create and do good for everyone. The flame array permanently scarred into the back of his hand — a symbol of all the pain and destruction and death he’s caused in his life and will carry with him to his grave — seems to ache.

Roy doesn’t hate it, the scar. He doesn’t hate any of his scars. They are bitter but refreshing reminders of what he’s capable of wreaking but can choose not to. This one in particular speaks of saving Riza and Havoc and Alphonse and of avenging Hughes. It belongs right there where he can see it.

Still, it feels as though any student milling about, full of youth and life and the best of intentions, would only really need one good look at him to know he doesn’t, and would never, fit in this place. 

Damn, five minutes is an awfully long time, for his thoughts. Roy doesn’t much appreciate being left alone with them under the best of circumstances, and this is certainly not the case. He wants to be in a good mood. He wants to see Ed and enjoy some tasty foreign cuisine with him and not think of anything important, and then maybe kiss him again when the night’s over. He likes kissing Ed, and he knows Ed likes kissing him and he likes that, too. But he’s just thought of Hughes, and doing that always hurts, always messes up his mind a little, and there will never again be a day when Roy will think of him and won’t hate himself, won’t fear for his loved ones, won’t—

“Roy!” Ed’s voice cuts right through his self-flagellation, and for that reason alone it’s the most beautiful sound Roy’s heard in a while.

He turns his head to look in the direction of his name and spots Ed immediately, golden and unmistakeable, half walking half jogging towards him. He’s wearing a brown vest over his shirt and Roy’s momentarily struck by how much he’s grown physically.

That Edward is beautiful is no news to him at all, but he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen him in a vest, and it accents his body in all the right ways— is Ed even aware? He’s not so short anymore, though enough that Roy has to lean down delightfully to press a greeting kiss to his cheek (Ed, predictably, scowls and rubs a sleeve to the spot Roy kissed), and he’s really— broad. Broad shoulders and broad chest and muscular arms and angular face. Handsome, and almost offensively so for Roy, who is well-built and good-looking and knows it, but in the pretty sort of way, slim and with that perpetual baby face that earns him so little respect in the shark tank that is the State Military.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Ed apologizes, unnecessarily. “Stuff happened in lab— good stuff!” He corrects himself hastily at Roy’s worried expression, and Roy realizes he does look quite happy. Glowy. It makes him feel a little better.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it over dinner,” he says, and Ed squints at him. He'll have to stop overanalysing everything between them at some point. Roy is nothing but sincere right now.

Ed points down the street behind Roy to indicate where they should be headed. “We’re going that way,” he says, and starts towards it. Roy falls into step by his side. “Full disclosure, I've never been to this place. But Liu — that’s my student, she’s from Xing — says it’s good and I trust her.” He talks about her with a subtle note of pride in his voice. It's cute.

“And I trust you,” Roy tells him. “I was going to call you, you know. I don't want you to think I wasn't. There’s just been some— very complicated matters at work and I couldn’t find the opportunity.” It sounds an awful lot like a lousy excuse to his own ears, but he has a feeling that Ed's able to tell it’s the truth.

“‘S alright. I’ll just take a rain check,” Ed says, too fast in that way that he does when he’s not sure he should but wants to say something anyway. “Can you talk about it? I mean— are you allowed to? If you want.”

Roy chews on his lip. So much for not thinking of anything important. “Officially, I am under no orders from above not to talk. Still, I feel it’d be better not to... discuss it where anyone could be listening in, for now.” He winces. What they talk about still doesn’t matter so much, but he’s definitely not very comfortable with his thoughts still stuck on political chess with generals and diplomats. “It’s nothing even remotely interesting, in any case. Politics are great for boring people to death.”

Ed levels him with an empathetic look. “You’re telling me,” he says, and the time when there was a Fullmetal Alchemist suddenly seems like it was in a different life entirely. He’s leading them around a corner into a quiet street lined with quaint businesses and cafés and restaurants. That such a place exists very close to where Ed works is... convenient. Useful information.

“It’s right... here,” Ed states, halting in front of one of the restaurants and turning to look at him, undoubtedly searching for a reaction. He so obviously still firmly believes there are very well-defined right and wrong answers and courses of action here. Roy will simply have to fix that with time.

Through the glass door, Roy takes in the comfortable-looking booths and the steaming plates served around. “Seems promising,” he says, pleased, and sighs wistfully at the smell of warm spicy food wafting from inside as Ed nudges the door open. “Smells like it, too.”

“Yeah... damn, it’s kind of crowded,” Ed notes, more to himself than to anyone else, apparently searching for a spot where they can sit.

“I don’t mind waiting a little if we have to,” Roy assures him. He really doesn’t, in exchange for excellent food and even better company, and is about to tell Ed exactly that when a waiter approaches.

“Good evening! I’m afraid we’re a bit full today,” the young man greets them, all polite and apologetic. The tag on his uniform reads Andrew. “Is it just you two?”

There was just the slightest touch of a playful suggestiveness in the question. Roy smiles and straightens his back and doesn’t have to look to picture Edward’s cheeks tinged a pretty shade of pink. “Yes, just the two of us,” he announces.

“Wonderful. If you would follow me, please,” Andrew prompts, and then Roy turns to Ed, only to find him fighting his own little smile, soft and shy. Something lovely and pleasant tugs at Roy's heartstrings, and he lets it in without putting up much of a fight.

Their waiter leads them past a couple empty tables and finds them one by the far wall of the restaurant, just a little more private, which Roy thinks is rather nice of him. He leaves them with two paper menus and tells them he’ll be back in bit to get their orders, and from a quick glance over Roy’s pleased to find the unpretentiousness of the place reflected on the pricing.

Ed picks noodles with two different types of meat, large with extra spice, surprising literally no one ever, and Roy orders a plate of fried rice with shrimp and vegetables for himself and a portion of pork dumplings for them to share, at which Ed's eyes sparkle. Food really is the way to this man’s heart.

While they wait, Ed takes the opportunity to fill him in on whatever happened today to put him in one of the nicest of moods. It's as impressive as it isn't surprising, that Edward is tearing down scientific barriers on the daily.

“There you go, making the world a better place again,” Roy says softly, and it's a compliment. Ed waves a hand dismissively, which is something he seriously needs to stop doing.

“I’m sure you'll catch up,” he says, so serious that Roy believes him.

As Roy promptly discovers once Andrew’s back with their food, handling chopsticks to slippery noodles requires all of Ed’s concentration, and he falls into silence. Roy is perfectly alright with watching him, content and at peace and enjoying his food, looking gorgeous as always and adorably clumsy, while working through his dish.

His closest friends include all of his team and barely anyone else, thus being with them these days always makes them all a little glum, with the unspoken We have an unholy amount of work to do, no matter how much he loves them, and he really does. Being with Ed, at any given time, allows him to escape that, even if it’s temporary, and Roy is deeply grateful for having been given this chance.

Ed has finished his noodles and then most of their dumplings by the time Roy’s scraping the last pieces of shrimp from his plate, and he pauses, looking up at nothing. Roy reaches out across the table to take his hand. Finally.

“I take it was good?” he asks.

“F’cking delicious,” Ed mumbles. Roy grins at him, asks if he's up for dessert, and he looks pained to shake his head no. He’s delightfully predictable, constancy where Roy rarely has any.

“We’ll just save it for next time,” he says. Ed smiles, red cheeks possibly attributed to the spicy food, though Roy’s money is on the words ‘next’ and ‘time’.

They split the bill. Roy imagines he will have to physically wrestle with Ed if he is to ever verbally allow him to pay, which is frustrating but also one of the charming things about him.

They walk back to campus, where Roy left his car, so close together their arms press up against each other and talking about things so insignificant he forgets what they were as soon as the conversation is over.

Ed refuses a ride home in favour of heading back to his lab to get some extra work done, and Roy makes him promise not to overwork himself into exhaustion. Ed rolls his eyes and then kisses him, for so long Roy begins to wonder if this is what ‘extra work’ entailed after all before Ed lets him go. It wasn't enough, but Roy has a feeling that it will never be. 

General Armstrong’s response comes in first thing on Monday morning— sending out a vague telegram to her was the last thing Roy did the previous week, wanting to give her the time to consider and think and plan. He doesn’t much care for her any more than she cares for him, but they both know, and have had it proven to them beyond any possibility of doubt, that their mutual respect for one another goes great lengths for the well-being of this ever ungrateful nation.

Officially, her answering telegram is an invitation to a formal trip to Fort Briggs, accompanied by two other officers of his choosing, in two weeks, under the guise of discussing strategies for defending the border Armstrong's responsible for securing against minor attacks. Neither of them has enough trust in the ranks left to risk outlining their intentions in official military correspondence, clear for the prying eyes the upper brass surely keeps on them both. It's no secret that Roy is a skilled strategist, and now that he's also a general this isn't likely to raise any suspicions.

Unofficially, however, General Armstrong has little need of help keeping her stronghold safe, and if she did, she would hardly ever ask it of him, so Roy now has high hopes that she’ll be shedding some much needed light on the political tightrope Amestris is teetering on.

Roy’s not thrilled in the slightest, but he'll have to bear with it. This is too important, both for his career and for the country he so often wishes he didn't love. He steps out into the outer office to discuss plans with his team.

“We need to handle some travel preparations,” he announces.

“Where to, boss?” Breda asks, not pausing for a second to consider and already looking for something to write with.

“Briggs,” Roy says, and half of them wince visibly. “General Armstrong has momentarily requested my aid,” he explains, and five pairs of eyes remain trained on him for a meaningfully long silence.

Everyone in this room has enough background information to know Major General Armstrong asking Roy for help sounds fishy at best, but for all they care, the walls have ears, and they’ve learned to work on as few words as possible many years ago. Bless his team. Roy never has and never will feel any shadow of regret for not-entirely-legally pulling the strings at his disposal to get them all back under his command. 

“I would like Captain Hawkeye and Second Lieutenant Falman to accompany me.” It will work in their favour for the General to be met with a familiar face, one that she probably doesn’t feel like punching on occasion like Roy’s, and Riza— well, Riza is obviously going.

Both officers nod in acknowledgement. “When do we leave, sir?” Falman asks.

“In two weeks’ time,” Roy answers, turning to Havoc. “Can you arrange the trains? I should hope we’ll be returning after a week, ten days at the most.”

“Yessir,” Havoc says around the toothpick dangling from his lips. He's already getting up, presumably to take care of the task at once— not so much overly efficient (though he is) as wanting to get it over with. Dealing with Briggs never means good news no matter the situation or its outcome, and half the team gone means double the work for Breda, Havoc and Fuery to keep watchful eyes on Central. Roy will write them instructions and some information to take some weight off their shoulders, when he finds the time to code it.

He allows himself a small sigh. “Captain, Falman, later this week we’ll be discussing in more detail what will be waiting for us when we arrive there.” As soon as he has any idea what more detail is comprised of, that is.

When Roy dismisses them back to their duties and returns to his office to resume sorting through his responsibilities for the week, the dark heavy clouds visible through the wide windows strike too much like a bad omen for his unbeliever mind.

Roy decides to go out on a limb and show up at Ed’s lab with an invitation for lunch; if Ed isn’t there, or is too busy or has already eaten, Roy will just go and explore what the neighbourhood has to offer anyway. He's jittery about the upcoming trip to Briggs, and he wants to see Ed, and there's no one to stop him.

Once on campus, a little poking around points him to the correct building, I’m looking for Dr. Edward Elric ringing beautifully in his ears. Roy likes intellect in a man. He can’t help it. Good thing Edward has plenty to spare.

A young woman opens the pristine white lab door when he knocks, and looks instantly wary. He’s got his coat draped over one arm, but is still wearing the unmistakable blue of the Amestrian army, and that's not usually the bearer of good news. 

“Can I help you?” she asks, in a pretty lilted accent.

“Oh, you must be Liu,” Roy says in realization, but that just turns the wariness into obvious fear. “I’m looking for Dr. Elric?” he prompts, not comfortable with the way she's leaning away from him like she's ready to take off running.

“Roy?” Edward’s voice asks from somewhere, and its owner enters his field of vision soon after. “What are you doing here?” He sounds incredibly surprised, but not displeased.

“I was hoping to snatch you away for lunch,” Roy clarifies, and a lone blonde eyebrow shoots up. Liu, smart girl, has already vanished inside. “If you have the time.”

“That sounds awesome, actually,” Ed says. He looks back over his shoulder for a moment before shrugging off his lab coat, which is something of a pity, in Roy’s humble opinion. “You could have called, you know,” he continues, closing the door behind him. “No reason to threaten kidnapping.”

Roy makes a face of distaste. “Where would be the fun in that?”

“In not freaking my student out, perhaps,” Ed tells him with a questioning look, and it actually hurts more that he probably intended it to, but Roy doesn’t blame him. “It’s nice to see you, regardless.”

Roy fights the urge to take his hand. “Likewise,” he says. “I just felt like coming to see you. Didn’t have enough of a notice in advance to call first.”

Ed furrows his brows at him. Roy sighs.

“I’ll be leaving for Briggs in about a week,” he explains. “I won’t be back for about twelve days.” Honestly, why does Briggs have to be an almost three-day trip by train? Amestris is too damn big. “Figured I’d get my share of you before then,” Roy finishes.

“What are you, an addict?” Ed grumbles, like he isn't blushing. _Apparently_ , Roy thinks. “There’s a café here on campus that’s not too crowded at this hour, we can go there,” Ed says. He starts marching down the hallway, but not before offering Roy his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are always appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> i have been working on this for a little while now, and i have it all planned out and most of it written already! i'm still not sure how frequently i'll update since i want to have some leeway in case a chapter takes too much time, but!! i want to go for something like every two weeks  
> thank you for reading and if possible please let me know what you think :')


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